Aim For The Brain
by IrishBabby
Summary: Compassion can get the best of someone when a world is full of death. When you find someone alone and hurt - and every man is for himself, what do you do?
1. Prologue

It had been exactly 62 days since Francis had last seen her doctor. It had been at the obstetrics clinic; with electricity, sterile equipment, and nurses. But those sixty-two days had gone by in a flash, and now the child she never wanted was forcing its way into her life.

She could try to focus on the way her ragged breathing was hitting the hospital walls and finding its way back to her ears. It was so silent – there were no doctors – no nurses. She was alone, waiting for her baby girl to fall to her feet. She had hoped that coming to a hospital might lead her to survivors, ones who were perhaps trained in the delivery of an infant.

She held her small round bell in her arms while she cried through another contraction. She could only pray that she was the only one who could hear her pain. Even though help would be nice, _Walkers would be worse._

She was now clutching tope colored hallway walls while trying to find a suitable room to lie down in. Her reaction was slow to the man running out of the pharmacy, but she managed to callout for help. She knew he saw her, and heard her… but he still ran away from her.

"Please I need help! I'm not infected!" she said. Her agonizing pain could be heard in her voice.

"Look lady, there's walkers in the basement, I ain't got time to stick around."

"Please!" she shouted gripping his arm.

"You needa shut yer' mouth or you'll kill us both god damnit!"

"Please, I don't know what to do. I can't do this by myself!"

Merle took one look at her swollen belly and shook his head before he tried to get away from her again, although now she had a tight grip on his arm.

"Look I only got one hand!"

"Please… please!" she begged, her knees fell to the floor while she felt another contraction flood her body, "My baby, she's coming! Please help me!" Behind her Walkers seemed to be gravitating to the sound of their conversation. Merle looked at her again, fear immediately seemed to overtake him. He wasn't scared of the walker behind her, more of the thought of pulling that thing out of her.

He took one more look at her before running down the hallway and turning the corner. Merle was in no position to help her and he didn't owe her shit. Merle took the antibiotics he'd taken and began to head down the stairs. His feet echoed from top to bottom, he was moving fast, too fast.

He tripped.

He fell to the bottom of the flight of stairs he had been on. He had made it down three, but now he was lying face down, his pills were gone, some spilt on the floor, the rest tumbling down the stair way.

Merle's mind flashed him back to the rooftop he had barely left with his life. He had come to begging God for things that day, and living was one of them. Merle hit himself in the head with his left hand while becoming more and more angry for thinking about it. He couldn't help but feel guilty leaving that woman like that. He felt like this was God saying: "You owe me."

He pushed himself to his feet and reached down to pick up one of the pain relievers he's grabbed and swallowed it before heading back up the three flights of stairs. He found that she had tried to follow him down the hallway, and was unsure of where he'd gone to until he came back out the entrance to the stairs. She was crying, and very scared. Merle could see that, he couldn't help but think of his baby brother who had brought home a wounded Raccoon one night; it had been hit by a car. Merle promptly told Daryl to kill it, throw it out – but when Daryl had seen that the critter was pregnant; he couldn't seem to do it.

He pulled her to him, and carried both of them down the rest of the hall into a room that seemed fairly put together. The window let in natural light and the bed looked like it hadn't been used.

"What the hell you doin' here anyways?" he asked her, irritated, like he had a whole day planned and she just ruined it.

"What's it look like?" she asked.

"Did ya' think you were gonna find a doctor?" he asked, while laughing.

"No… I figured it was the best place to start! I went into labor, panicked, and came here. I taught there'd be survivors… someone."

"Well next time wish for someone with two hands." He said. She could see the way his eyes widened each time they looked at her stomach. Obviously just as nervous as her.

"Please you have to help me…" she begged again.

"Look I ain't no fuckin' doctor, I didn't even finished high school. I just brought you here because you were gonna get us both eaten screamin' like that throughout the god damn place!"

"I just – I just can't do it on my own, I'm not asking you to be the god damned father!" She said beginning to breath heavy. "I just wouldn't mind a few painkillers and maybe someone to give me an update every now and – AHHH!" she began to yell through another contraction. She grabbed his arm and he started screaming too at the pain she was causing him. "You really do have a hand off!" she exclaimed looking at the cauterized stump at the end of his arm. "Good thing you only need one to get a 'hand on things' right?" she said. Merle gave her a look that asked her to please never try and tell a joke like that again.

"How can you tell extremely bad jokes at a time like this?" he asked her.

"Sorry… the pain is just… blinding really." She said as she started to scream again. When she let go of him he pulled away before she could grab at him again, he took the time to wrap his stump in sterile gauze before returning to her with a syringe filled with liquid.

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to have painkillers during labor." He said.

"I don't fucking care!" she screamed at him before he injected it into her arm. Instantly she felt better. "Thank you." She said.

"Aren't you worried the kids going to come out stupid?" he asked her.

"I don't entirely believe it's happening." She said,

He have her an odd look up and down, and asked: "How?"

"This wasn't supposed to happen, she's was never supposed to be mine." she told him.

Merle tried to slip away once, and got caught… he ended up staying put until she told him it was time. And after telling her several times that he wasn't _"stickin' my head down there!"_he eventually did. But after realizing this was a problematic childbirth – he seemed to sober up about the whole situation, and tried to talk her through it. He thought of several movies he's seen where this type of thing happened – but nothing he thought he knew calmed his nerves.

* * *

><p>Merle had no fucking idea why he stuck around long enough for her to wake up. He did not want to be here, and he most certainly wanted to <em>'…get the fuck out.'<em>He knew he couldn't leave anyone like this though… she was laying in her own blood – and she had passed out before Merle had a chance to tell her what was wrong.

The small baby girl hadn't been able to get enough air with the cord so tightly wrapped around her neck, and died shortly thereafter. Merle had contemplated leaving, and slipping out before Francis woke up. But he couldn't help but remember how it felt to keep waking up on that roof with no one around. So he sat, and waited.

* * *

><p>When Francis finally came around, she found a window streaming with light. The sun was warming to her feet, yet she felt immensely uncomfortable lying there after what she had been through.<p>

She looked shocked when Merle was standing in the doorway.

"Thought you'd be gone by now." She said.

"I couldn't leave without-" he paused, "Your girl… she didn't make it. I couldn't just slip away with you thinking I'd stole yer' baby."

Francis took in the information quickly. Slightly harbored by her real emotions, and the ones she'd felt months ago. Part of her had never wanted this baby, but that didn't mean she never loved it. The smallest carbon copy of her hadn't made it in the world… _this world._

She wiped away the tears and nodded her head before getting up.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Merle." He said. "Whoa, whoa! You can't get around, not with how weak ya' are."

"We can't stay here, like you said there are walkers in the basement. Walkers everywhere." She said, her hands shaking, her legs swaying. She clutched to the counter, trying to stabilize her balance.

"Yeah but it's daylight now, and they won't get past the door I blocked off." Merle said. "Juss' lemme… see her." Francis said. Merle waited for a moment before nodding his head and helping her out.

* * *

><p>After some help from Merle she was able to say goodbye to her baby girl and give her a proper burial on the grounds of the hospital. She made sure it was somewhere far from the bags filled with dead, and near a small patch of wild Daisies.<p>

She walked away with him, both of them instinctively were already looking for supplies, and for some reason they headed the same direction.

She figured the pharmacy was a good place to start, and Merle wanted to still get what he'd come for.

"You can leave if you want, you… didn't need to help me this much, but I appreciate it." She told him.

"I… waited… I guess cause –" he held up his tightly wrapped hand. It had a fresh bandage on it, and Francis couldn't help but notice how odd his arm looked without a right hand. "I woulda' liked fer someone to help me."

"Thanks." She said turning away from the grave.

"But don't ask me to do that again, because I ain't fuckin' gonna."

"Why? Ya gonna stick around with me till I get pregnant again?" she asked.

"I'll get you pregnant." He told her smiling.

"No… don't even, after what just happened to me, I'll be lucky if I don't swear off men forever." She laughed.

"Lesbian. Cool, I can stick around an get you both pregnant."

"That's incredibly inappropriate." She said.

"Look all I'm saying is that I haven't gotten a good fuck in quite some time."

"Well keep wantin' it ain't gonna happen." She told him crossing her arms.

"Alright alright! Christ Jus' trying to get ya' ta' laugh. With yer bad jokes you ain't done that for a while."

Francis did give him a smile before she said: "Name's Francis, or Frankie. Whichever."

"Francis? What the fuck kinda name is that?" He asked.

"What kinda redneck name is Merle?" she asked.

"Don't make fun of my name, Dixons'll kick your ass." He said.

She held up her hands in her immediate defense, "I'm named after my father."

"Now don't toy with me, I know yer a girl."

"Only child." She said, opening the pharmacy door. "Family tradition, when I wasn't a boy what were they supposed to do?"

"Name ya something other than that god awful crap." he said.

"You are a complete asshole, you know that right?" she asked handing him a bottle of painkillers.

"Ain't a Dixon if yer not." Merle said.

After a while of back and forth banter. Frankie had filled a new messenger bag with antibiotics, painkillers, and other various medical supplies. She had teased Merle about his addiction to Vicodin and that he could find healthier habits in times like these. But he just grumbled, and showed her his bandaged stump.

"Makes it hard to kill damn walkers." he told her.


	2. A Mother's Instincts

Frankie climbed the large Sugar Maple tree. She made it all the way to the top before Merle yelled at her:

"Ya climb like a damn girl." He said.

"No shit!" she yelled back, "Shut the fuck up or you'll get us killed." They had seen a lot of walkers today. These woods, for some reason seemed to be crawling with them.

Frankie and Merle both decided to leave Atlanta as soon as both of them felt better. Merle's hand was taking a while to heal, and Francis, she just didn't feel like she could move on quite yet. For some reason the both of them stayed close.

They each spent a couple nights in the hospital, but Merle stayed the first few nights on a different floor. Although he had been sure to tell her he'd be within yellin' distance. Both of them talked about where they'd go. Merle wanted to look for his brother, while Francis wanted to head west and find a secluded home. However they had both chosen to leave the same day, and as they headed out together, they seemed to have decided to stick together.

Some days Frankie regretted staying with him. His constant racial slurs and abrasive conversation would take a toll on her social personality. But she was happy to have a bit of muscle around when she had to drive a metal rod through the eye of a walker. Frankie was quick, but not strong, and Merle helped with that.

"What ya see?" he yelled.

Francis lowered herself down a couple branches before dropping to the soft dirt ground below her.

"Fuckin' house." She said. "Look's abandoned."

"Well let's go look!" he said drawing his gun and looking excited.

Francis followed behind him, slightly irritated that he was so excited to explore the house. She was tired. She was still weak, but they needed a place to stay, they hadn't taken a tent, and she didn't like sleeping in the open.

In his only hand he carried a small hatchet, but both of them were carrying packs full of supplies. Frankie took out an axe that she'd pulled from an abandoned fire truck. She slung it over her shoulder while she waited for Merle to finish peaking in the windows.

"I don' see no one!" he said. "Let's let ourselves in."

"Should we knock?" she asked him. He turned around just to look at her sarcastic face.

"I ain't never been a knocker, I ain't startin' now." Merle said before kicking the door in with the heel. The frame of the door was now broken.

"You don't think a door is necessary to out safety?" she asked. "Maybe we should try and keep them intact?"

"Shh!" Merle said as he ran into the house. Frankie didn't understand what he'd seen or why he was now running away from her. She only knew that she needed to be ready to cover him. But by the time she had seen where he was going, she realized he was chasing something out the back door.

"Merle!" she yelled after him. She jumped over a knocked over table and ran out the back door. Now she could see, he was chasing someone, a little girl. Frankie stopped and almost fell over as she watched the healthy little girl run from a man that scared her. Frankie could only think of her little girl.

Frankie watched as Merle easily caught her with his long legs. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back, obviously unaware of how to handle a small child.

"Quit runnin'!" he told her, "I ain't gonna hurt ya. I ain't dead." He told her. The little blonde girl was breathing hard, and the forceful grip he had on her arm was making her whimper.

"Merle!" Frankie said again, this time she was behind them both. "Merle you're hurting her."

Merle let go and she fell back. Frankie bent down to help her up. The little girl obviously felt more comfortable with Frankie's kind face than Merle's frightful demeanor.

"Look sweet girl, we're just passin' by. We don't mean no harm. What you doin' all the way out here by yourself?"

She didn't say anything.

"You got a mom? Dad? Or are they gone?" Frankie asked. Frankie was startled when she heard the little girl begin to cry. She was sobbing now, tears running through her dirt stained cheeks.

"You from around here?" Frankie asked her. They'd brought the little girl back inside, it seemed that she had been sleeping here for a while now, and when Frankie held out some food, she quickly took it as though she were starving. She still hadn't said anything, but Frankie kept on asking questions.

"Come on Frankie, she ain't talking." Merle said.

'Well I wouldn't either if you had nearly tackled me. I woulda ran too." Frankie said. "You're like a terrifying bear!"

Frankie made the girl giggle.

"He is isn't he?" Frankie said again. "See she agrees with me."

Merle rolled his eyes and went in the next room.

"He doesn't know me." The little girl said. Frankie was now startled; she hadn't expected the little girl to speak so suddenly. "He used to be at our camp."

"Camp? So others? Are there others?" Frankie asked.

The little girl shook her head, "I don't know where they are." She said beginning to cry. Frankie gave her a swift hug and smoothed her hair.

"We can help you find them." Frankie said. "It'll all be alright."

That night Frankie slept next to the little girl, she hadn't stopped crying since she's admitted she was lost. The only other thing Frankie learned was that her name was Sophia.

"You from around here?" Frankie asked her. They'd brought the little girl back inside, it seemed that she had been sleeping here for a while now, and when Frankie held out some food, she quickly took it as though she were starving. She still hadn't said anything, but Frankie kept on asking questions.

"Come on Frankie, she ain't talking." Merle said.

'Well I wouldn't either if you had nearly tackled me. I woulda ran too." Frankie said. "You're like a terrifying bear!"

Frankie made the girl giggle.

"He is isn't he?" Frankie said again. "See she agrees with me."

Merle rolled his eyes and went in the next room.

"He doesn't know me." The little girl said. Frankie was now startled; she hadn't expected the little girl to speak so suddenly. "He used to be at our camp."

"Camp? So others? Are there others?" Frankie asked.

The little girl shook her head, "I don't know where they are." She said beginning to cry. Frankie gave her a swift hug and smoothed her hair.

"We can help you find them." Frankie said. "It'll all be alright."

That night Frankie slept next to the little girl, she hadn't stopped crying since she's admitted she was lost. The only other thing Frankie learned was that her name was Sophia.

* * *

><p>Frankie didn't tell Merle that morning what she had learned from Sophia. It made sense that the girl waited for him to leave before talking, she was afraid of him. Frankie wondered why Merle wouldn't recognize a girl that he used to share a camp with. But Merle had been on his own for quite some time now, perhaps the girl had changed too much for him to recognize her.<p>

Frankie still didn't know a lot about Merle, he kept quite a bit of his past locked up, including what happened to his hand. But Frankie had grown accustomed to his vulgar language and sexual references, because truth be told: both of them were so mentally wounded, they knew it was all for show. They almost always slept in different rooms, and despite working together, they might as well been complete strangers, and sadly, they liked it that way.

Frankie handed him an apple, it was bruised, but still good. Merle ate it quickly; they were both hungry, and running out of food. Sophia said there had been food at one point, but it was gone while she stayed here.

Later a plan had been made to leave and search for more food. Frankie and Merle were ready to go out and look for some rabbits, or a deer if they were lucky. But when the time came, Sophia refused to leave.

"Damn girl, leave her then!" Merle said.

"She's scared to death, and what if one of those geeks finds her here huh?"

"Not my problem." Merle said.

"I'm staying with her."

She saw for the first time Merle actually seemed angry with her for choosing the girl over him. Frankie couldn't leave a child alone while she was so frightened. Frankie knew though that she would've felt the same way Merle did if he chose to leave her. She didn't understand why, she was socially awkward, she kept the anxiety of being alone to herself and hoped it wouldn't replicate in other ways. She watched as he walked away with their only gun.

"Better on my own anyway." He said. Frankie knew that was a lie. Both of them needed one another, strictly because Merle was handicapped with only one hand – and when Frankie was left alone she'd succumb to panic. She could only hope she'd be all right without him.


	3. A Frozen Child

She tried to keep Sophia talking while Merle was gone, something to make her brain realize she wasn't alone. But Merle had been gone for hours now, and once darkness had begun to creep its way into the sky, Frankie knew she couldn't wait any longer; she had to look for him. But the moment she put her foot out the door the world seemed to spin. She stepped back inside to see Sophia watching her. The puzzled look on the little girls face was enough to embarrass Francis into stepping back out onto the porch. Looking out into the tree she hoped to see Merle reveal himself, but after time, the spaces just became darker and darker.

Then the gunshot was enough to send her off into the thickness of the dark trees.

He had been gone too long, and that shot came from far away.

_How did she even know it was him? What if someone had shot at Merle? What if he was hurt, or dead?_

She bounded around the thick tree trunks, and over rotting wood. Her sneakers were built for running and her adrenaline put her body's sickness to rest for the time being. She felt that leaving Merle had been a stupid idea. But she couldn't leave that sweet innocent girl. She couldn't leave someone else's child.

Francis was deep into the woods, the trees covered the sky and all she could hear now was the snapping of branches as she ran.

"Merle!" she would yell, "MERLE!"

Eventually her breath became shallow and she began to panic.

She stopped, dead in her tracks. Clutching the side of a tree she stopped to regain her breath, her chest was tight, and her nails began scraping at the bark of the tree while she tried to control her breathing and keep her eyes from spinning.

She had instinctively responded to something she thought was wrong, but it had been a mistake, she hadn't taken anything with her, she couldn't see, and Merle was nowhere in sight.

"MERLE!" she yelled again, her voice cracking at the end.

With her back against the tree she clutched her chest, it was rapidly rising and falling as her shallow breaths tried to compete with her nervous and panicked breaths. She looked around, hearing so many different noises, and she cried "Merle!" once more before tears erupted from her eyes and began to make her choke from the sobs. She was trying to steady her breathing with placing her shaking hands across her chest. She ended up on the cold earth ground, curled in a ball, still spinning, still choking.

* * *

><p>Daryl Dixon was a slightly different type of Dixon. Like Merle he was tough, tactical, and a brute. He found comfort in the woods, hunting, stalking, and killing. It helped him relax – it helped him get away from everything else.<p>

However this was the first time he wanted to find his prey alive, and keep it that way. Finding a scared little girl in the Georgian woods was no easy task, but he had taken it upon him nonetheless. He felt that he had to find someone, in this shit hole; they were all lost in some way. Daryl knew what it was like to have your only bit of flesh and blood lost to the wilderness – to the dead. If he had any hope for failing his brother it was to find Sophia.

His boot slid against the mud that had been created the previous night before. The surrounding logs were wet, soaked with rainwater. But it also left the hair hot and humid, he could feel the sweat beads falling down his arms and back. The trigger on his crossbow was always being delicately fingered, ready to send an arrow into the next walker that tried to make him their next meal.

He stopped to scrape off the clump of mud that had now begun to cling to his boot. He noticed however that he could see a head of wet stringy hair a few feet in front of him. The rain had washed away any evidence of a trail, but it had also left perfect means to create a path – which meant that this thing, whether walker, or person hadn't moved in some time.

_"Sophia!"_ he said softly. He could feel his heart begin to pound. He was almost excited; he prayed that he had actually found her. _"Hey, Sophia."_he said again. He watched the head sag. He hair was soaked completely clinging to the body beneath it, but now he could see it was too long to be Sophia's. He slowly circled what he thought was a corpse. Keeping his crossbow aimed directly at the brain.

The skin was pale and sickly. It was an obvious walker. Daryl gave the body a kick to the shin. It moved from the motion of the kick… swaying for a moment before the head lifted.

Daryl's crossbow was still aimed.

The head lifted, now he could see the face of a girl, _not Sophia._

She had fox-like features, a thin face, a thin body, thin everything, she looked sick. She opened her eyes in a flash, while she seemed to try to focus on something in front of her. Daryl could see the whites of her eyes, no sickly yellow, just a deep amber iris. Her eyes were the only thing normal about her. She seemed to be unaware of Daryl, of where she was, or how she became lying in the mud.

_"Merle?"_ escaped her lips in a soft squeaky whisper. She could talk, meaning she wasn't dead yet. Daryl's crossbow was still raised, ready to kill. But the uttering of his long lost brothers name left him motionless, and frozen. Her head fell again, now Daryl could see her chest rising slowly. He lowered his weapon, looking at her pale skin her didn't see any bite marks, nothing out of the ordinary but the color. With his left hand he reached out and touched the girl in front of him, first he placed his hand to her neck; it was icy, and completely wet, but he could feel the soft _dub_ of a heart beat.

Sorry for the wait about the update. I've had a couple family members in and out of the hospital, but I'm trying to crank things out so you guys don't become bored. I'll try to get into regular updates, just bare with me.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for the wait, I've had family in the hospital, and have had no time to write, I'm behind on all my stories, so I started with the oldest to be updated. I hope I can update a lot sooner, but thanks for sticking with me guys. have a great week!


	4. Distraction

Daryl's time spent on his own had been something he'd often looked foreword to. He realized however… carrying an unconscious girl back to camp was something he did not enjoy. With his feet sliding in the mud every other step he took and her weight baring don on his shoulders – he had to stop several times to regain his strength, and each time he did, he would try to rouse her to consciousness.

She was cold, and it seemed that at first glance she was even dead. He was slightly surprised at himself that he hadn't just put an arrow in her brain the moment he saw it wasn't Sophia. He was glad he didn't – because he was sure of what he heard.

He half-way tired to convince himself that he had misheard what she said. He had slightly death with the loss of his brother and he wasn't ready to bring that back yet. Sophia had been his goal, and now he was distracted. Granted with his luck this _Merle_ she was muttering about could be the only other man named Merle in Atlanta. He doubted it was actually his brother – but he _had _to know.

When he reached the clearing near Hershel's Farm he was glad that Glen had run out to his aid. There were several others watching from a distance, probably wondering if he was dragging back Sophia's dead corpse. But he saw relief wash over Glen's fact when he realized it wasn't a little dead girl, but a survivor.

"She's sick – get 'er to Hershel." Daryl said passing on the limp girl.

"Where'd you find her?" Glen asked.

"Where do ya think? In the damned woods!" Daryl said catching his breath. Glen, like always, had irritated Daryl with nothing more than a small comment. So he kept his mouth shut while they both walked towards the house in silence. Rick and Shane seemed to find their way to the two other men – obviously everyone had their eyes on what exactly Daryl had brought back to camp.

"Damn walker?" Shane asked.

"Nah – just some girl, tired ta' take a nap in the rain." Daryl said.

"She bit?" Shane asked.

"Not that I can tell." Daryl answered. He hated the way Shane was able to irritate him with just his presence. His constant attempt at control made Daryl want to put an arrow in his head.

"Well who the hell is she then?" Shane asked, he was giving Daryl a look like he'd just brought back a walker to camp and asked everyone to bit _it._

"If I knew I'd tell ya damnit!" Daryl said, his voice getting irritated.

"If yer just gonna bring back strays every day then you and I are gonna have to have a little talk." Shane said

"Shane!" Rick added, trying to get him to calm down. Hershel was now on the front porch wondering what everyone was complaining about.

"Daryl found her – in the woods." Glen said.

Hershel gave them a skeptical look.

"I don't recognize her." Hershel said while shaking his head.

"Don't matter!" Daryl said. "She needs help!"

Hershel came down and checked her pulse, "It's weak." He said.

"She could be infected." Rick added in a calm and concerned tone.

"Nah, she'd be burning if she was, this girl's as cold as ice. We outta' get her warmed up, and she what her temperature is then."

"You mean you're gonna take this strange girl in and help her? What if she turns?" Shane asked, he was almost appalled that they would take this kind of chance.

"I took Carl in, I trusted that he wasn't ill. And I'll do the same with this girl." Hershel said. Shane pursed his lips and looked back at Rick, hoping he would help him in some way… but as always – their decisions conflicted. Daryl kept what he had heard to himself, afraid that if he began spouting off about Merle again – they'd think he'd gone mad. Inside he was desperately hoping that perhaps she had run into Merle, maybe seen that he was okay or where he could be. Any information about his brother would be greatly appreciated.

Hershel stepped out into the kitchen where several others were preparing dinner.

"How is she?" Lori asked.

Hershel noted that Daryl was patiently sitting down the hall, obviously listening in.

"Well I'm quite concerned."

Patricia stepped in behind him, with another worried look on her face.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Maggie asked her father.

"Well she hasn't regained consciousness. But now that she's in a regulated environment her temperature has started to rise and… it's an obvious fever."

"So she's infected?" Rick asked.

"We searched her entire body… and there's not a single mark." Patricia said.

"It's an infection, but like a certain infection that usually mothers can contract during child birth." Hershel explained. "From our antibiotics to yours, we _might_be able to rid the infection from her body. She's gravely ill, and from what it looks like she spent the night in the rain, which sent the infection into overdrive."

Then Patricia interrupted: "But our greatest concern lies with the fact that… well – this woman gave birth not too long ago… but Daryl didn't bring any newborns back with him."

"Daryl… did you see anything?" Rick asked.

"Nah, just her, laying against a long. Nothing around her but mud." Daryl answered.

"I don't know what drove her to end up that way-" Hershel began.

"Perhaps she was running from something –" Shane interjected "-perhaps she's infected."

"It's not _that_kind of infection." Hershel said, "I explained that."

"Yeah but we don' know a lot about this disease, it could manifest any way it sees fit – maybe it's trying to trick us!" Shane exclaimed.

"Shane we're going to see this through… under my care I think I can get her to pull through. Then we can find out where this child is, as well as the one of your own."

"Maybe we should talk to Daryl about bringing home strays." Shane said.

"Maybe you should shut your big mouth!" Daryl told Shane.

"I ain't comfortable with someone we don't know, that we can't talk to, and that had a god dammed fever, SLEEPIN' IN MY CAMP!"

Hershel was just as irritated with Shane as everyone else, stepping foreword to the young man, Hershel made it clear that this: _"was his house!"_Shane left the room in a hurry, and as he walked away everyone could see the pistol he had in his back waistband, and the way his hand was resting on top of it. Rick followed him, as it seemed that he had promised Hershel that he would keep his group under control – Shane had been upset since he's came back without Otis that night, and everyone could tell.

The girls went back to preparing dinner – and Daryl slinked back into the shadows of the hallway – trying to peak into the room where the girl was laying. The door was open only a crack but he could see the pale girl, her face glistening in sweat. All he could think was: _what could she possibly know?_

He was startle when he heard the smash of a kitchen plate. Carol had begun to set the table, and the tears in her eyes must've obscured her vision. He had forgotten all about Sophia that day, finding a girl, hearing his brother's name. That little girl was out there somewhere, and everyone feared the worst when the rain his. Daryl knew it was likely for her to find shelter, he figured she was hiding out somewhere they just hadn't found yet and that they would come across it soon.

Before he had become so enveloped within finding the girl that nothing really mattered besides going out each day and looking. But now he was transfixed by the girl in the other room – someone so pretty even when sick, and someone who knew so much, someone who _had_ to.


	5. Madman

Daryl Dixon was once again searching for Sophia, he felt like searching was they only way he could get his mind off his brother, _and irritate Shane,_at the same time. His head was filled with stupid hope about his brother. He kept telling himself chances were slim, that he hadn't heard her correctly, or she had mumbled some random phrase.

But it had hurt him when he'd lost Merle. He was all Daryl had left.

Daryl still had trouble thinking that Carol really appreciated his efforts, sometimes he did it because he couldn't stand they way she looked when she longed for her daughter, and part of him wanted to find her, since he could never find Merle.

He realized that he was more than stupid sometimes now that he was lying at the bottom of a drop off. Damned horse had knocked him clean off – and now his own arrow was lodged in his side.

Daryl felt stupid standing at the bottom of a ravine, with nothing but an arrow in his side, and a doll in his pocket. And after he fell for the second time, he wasn't surprised when his brother's ghost came back to haunt him.

He realized he was more tormented than he thought. He hadn't just lost someone, he had failed him. If Merle was alive, who knew what he thought of Daryl.

When he finally made his way back to the farm, after everything, he finally looked like he felt on the inside.

* * *

><p>Now he was only in the next room. Only a wall away from the girl that wouldn't leave his mind. He didn't wince or show any pain while Hershel stitched him up, he was trying to ignore him because he ceased to stop talking about the damn horse.<p>

"She said anythin' yet?" Daryl asked the room.

Shane and Rick looked at each other for a moment, Hershel shook his head.

"Not today." Rick said.

"Yeah, but she's got one helluva' fever."

"She's sick Shane, that's what happens when you get sick." Rick said quietly, the look her got from Hershel only reminded him that his followers were obviously a little lacking in manners.

"Also happens before you turn into a flesh eating mutherfucker." Shane said. Hershel nearly dropped the scissors he was using to cut the thread from Daryl's side.

"Shane, language! This ain't our house!" Rick said.

"Yeah well if it were I woulda put a bullet in that bitches head before Daryl got her in the front door."

"Alright Shane, that's it!" Rick pushed him out the door of the room, and then out the screen door.

Daryl knew even he would have wanted to be weary of a sick traveler found nearly dead in the woods. In these times, you just couldn't be too careful; there wasn't anything you could be too careful about. Even today he'd gotten shot in the damned head because Andrea couldn't be too careful. His head hadn't stopped spinning since he'd picked the girl up, but now… he was only falling into a deep sleep. Hershel had given him a sleep aid, and Daryl didn't even have time to eat anything that Carol had brought him before his eyes became glued shut.

* * *

><p><em>"God Damn. You know Susie May looks better than you right 'bout now." He heard Merle say.<em>

_Daryl was dreaming, he had to be._

_"Fuck off!" Daryl said. Daryl was driving his old truck, he was back home, and things were normal. He could see Merle sitting in the passenger seat; he was going on about football, and some girl he'd picked up at the bar. Daryl rolled his eyes. He was in pain; he didn't care to hear this. He was still bandaged up, he was still hurt from the last conversation he'd had with Merle. He parked his truck down their dirt driveway before getting out, he slammed the door – and was woken up by the loud bang that shutting the door had created. _

Daryl sat up. The noises were all coming from around him.

In the next room he could hear commotion, arguing.

He stood up, and the pain was immense. He reminded himself to find some of Merle's vicodin he'd kept stashed away. He slowly staggered to the hallway, the wall as his crutch. In the next room he could see Shane and Hershel.

"Don't you see she's sick?" Shane told him.

"That is apparent, which is why she is under my care. I do not need your help in this diagnosis."

"She's gonna turn and eat all ya'll for breakfast, I'm only asking you let me stop it before it happens!"

"Before what happens Shane? When she get's better? How would you feel never knowing she was going to be just fine?"

"I'd sleep-" Shane paused. He looked down at his feet, and scratched his shaved head, "like a baby."  
>Shane walked passed Daryl giving him a sneer look, Hershel followed shutting the door behind him, but not before he check the girls pulse.<p>

"She's doin' better." Hershel told Daryl, "Get's stronger every day. How're you feelin'? You've slept almost two days."

"Still hurts." Daryl said.

"Well you did fall down a cliff, twice with an arrow in your side."

"Yeah don't remind me." Daryl said.

"If you're feeling up to it, I could use that bedroom back." Hershel said.

"Yeah, don't worry 'bout it. I've got better drugs back at camp anyways."

"Don't take anything too strong, something mild'll do the job."

"Whatever you say Doc." Daryl said. He trudged back to the bed and slipped his boots back on. He grabbed his shirt and made his way back to camp, all the while thinking about those few white pills he had stashed in a tobacco can.

* * *

><p><em>A Few Days Later <em>

Daryl's side still hurt when he woke up that morning. It had been quiet all day until Shane had decided he'd had enough. Daryl was forced to run to catch up with the others already heading to the barn where he could see Rick and Hershel, but with dog-catchers, leading walkers. He grabbed he shotgun, and loaded a few rounds into the chamber as he walked over to the group.

Everything, everything about Shane was maddening. He seemed to be pent on only survival, nothing else mattered to him but his own goddamn life. He didn't care that Carl could see or that they needed Hershel's permission to stay.

And Daryl even though he didn't agree, he complied with Shane's orders once he opened the barn doors. Daryl had no choice. He was going to protect them, no matter what. So he, and several others gunned down every last walker in the barn. Just like Shane had wanted. Daryl felt bad for Hershel, he may not have agreed with his method for handling walkers, but Daryl knew what it was like to have something just taken from you.

The last poor soul to walk out that barn was the girl that Daryl hadn't given up on yet. She still had on that blue shirt, shorts and sneakers. She looked just like the girl that had left them, except for her eyes, her crazy, hungry eyes.

Daryl had to hold Carol back while Rick put a bullet through her head. If he hadn't he could tell that Carol would've ran right to the little girl and hugged her, with all a mothers love.

Daryl for a moment felt a second wave of defeat wash over him. Sophia was the second person he'd failed to find. He was fully aware of how Carol felt right now, she was crying, shaking, and screaming. It was all too familiar; he tried not to remember how he felt that morning when all he had found was Merle's hand. He just held her close, trying to keep her away from those disease-ridden things, she was the closest thing he had to a friend around here, and now he had to be there for her.

"There Shane! It's over. YOU HAPPY?" Rick yelled at the man he once called his friend.

"No. No I ain't happy." Shane said. Shane was pacing back and forth. He looked around at the shocked faces of those around him, Sophia, she was a lost cause after all. He had been right all along.

"There's one more Rick, I've gotta' kill it too." Everyone watched as Shane turned away from the barn, heading back to Hershel's home. And Daryl was the first one to put the pieces together.

"Shane No!" Daryl found himself yelling, he didn't want to, but he had to pull away from Carol, leaving her on the ground, in the dirt. He couldn't let Shane kill the only tie he had to his brother.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Didn't want to re-write the whole episode when you know very well what happened. And this chapter was more to establish a timeline rather then actual story progression. And now the real fun can begin.**


	6. Any Other Name

Shane's pistol was already loaded again and ready to finish off the one loose end. Daryl was close behind him, ready to defend the dumb bitch to the very end. Everyone else seemed to still be preoccupied about the lost girl. Sure, it was shocking, but honestly? These days you were lucky just not to get ripped apart as someone's dinner. It had always been life to live and die – sure, a little girl dying, that's sad. But it's life, it's gone and done. Everyone needed to stop complaining about how hard life was – it was hard for everyone. Shane wasn't about to let someone's stupidity drag him down.

He was going to survive. Now here he was fixin' everyone's damn mistakes.

He felt Daryl talked him in Hershel's hallway before he reached the girls room. He was a bit bigger than Daryl, so he was able to flip the guy over and pound on his face for a little while, it only took one jab to Daryl stitches, Shane was back up gun in his hand. He could hear the other comin' he could hear them yellin' his name. But they heard him yell out of frustration when he saw that the bedroom was empty.

Shane turned back to Daryl.

"Where'd you put her?" Shane asked. Daryl was still on the floor, in pain. "Come on you hillbilly fuck!" Daryl ignored, him. At least he didn't hear a gun shot.

* * *

><p>Frankie had been fast asleep, dreaming of that day Merle had left her. To her this day wasn't all this different.<p>

In her mind she would replay running through the woods, he insecurities drove her to facing her fear of being alone. She couldn't survive that way, not again. Merle had been a cranky, and arrogant friend, but she valued him nonetheless.

It was only Sophia that had caused her to stay behind in the first place. She remembered how hard it was to tear herself away from the hospital, leaving behind the baby girl she would never know – and the moment she saw that innocent face, she couldn't leave her behind too.

The only reason she ever did was because she thought Merle was in danger.

_-The guns fired-_

Frankie awoke in a strange bed, in a strange place. But it didn't faze her. She was back to being worried about Merle. The shots outside… he was there – still in trouble. She walked through the old fashioned home and stumbled out the back door. She was nearly naked, only wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of underwear. Her feet walked across the dry grass, she didn't know where Merle could be now, it was day-light now, he had spent all night on his own. She could only hope he wasn't hurt – or too angry with her for not finding him in time.

But now she didn't know where she was, she didn't know where to look.

There was no more gunfire to tell her where to go, there was only a ringing silence. So she just walked foreword. Trees and branches met her footing quickly, the rocks and spiny plants didn't seem to bother her feet because in her head the panic was consuming her.

She just had to keep moving, and she'd find him eventually.

* * *

><p>Glen managed to get Daryl back on his feet. Both of them instinctively checked his stitches to see if they had torn, and luckily they hadn't. Shane was still seething, pacing from room to room looking for any place their missing friend could've gone.<p>

"Told ya!" Shane said, "She turned and got up and walked off."

"If she had turned she would've followed the gunshots Shane, you know that." Glenn told him.

"Yeah maybe she heard you shooting up the place and thought, 'hell maybe I won't stick around for this crazy asshole to shoot me too!"

"What happened out there was gonna happen with or without me. Keepin a bunch of those things locked up ain't gonna help nobody!"

"What happened was you've gone fucking insane!" Glen said.

Shane's anger was now directed at Glen, but Daryl took his side, hoping Shane would back off and not try to fight the both of them.

"SHANE!" Rick said, now entering through the doorway, "How could you do something like that? You know we need Hershel to let us stay!"

"We don't need him, you know as well I as I that there isn't a safe place on earth where those things won't find us." Shane said.

"We were safe!" Rick argued.

"We weren't with those things in the god damned barn!" Shane said.

"Well you fixed that problem now didn't you? For all of us." Rick said.

"Least we found the girl. Now we can leave."

"We're not leaving Shane!" Rick said. "Where is she? Where's the girl?"

"Not here! Ain't been here for a while now."

"Well I reckon she walked out that door not too long ago." Daryl added, noting the open back door. "I'd go out the back if I was running from a psycho too."

"We gotta go find her, if she's not completely better we could lose her… and-"

"Never find her." Glen said.

"Or find her like Sophia." Daryl said.

Daryl walked back to the door, irritated that Shane was among those following him. He made it all the way to the outskirts of the woods before he picked up any kinds of tracks. She was barefoot, moving quickly.

"Look, couldn't have gone far, still have dry tracks." Daryl said.

"Good. Maybe I can finish this after all." Shane said.

"She's obviously not a walker Shane, you can't kill a perfectly fine human being."

"We'll see about that." Shane said, "If she's infected, I'm not letting her get back to camp."

Everyone except Daryl was still armed from the firefight earlier. He had left his shot gun on the ground to keep Carol from running to Sophia, and now here he was, the only one without a weapon. Not exactly comforting with Shane around.

The group wanted to try to find her quickly before she got too far away to become a problem, but there was a very awkward feeling with Shane so close to them, he had forced everyone to pull the trigger, they had no choice.

It wasn't long before the came across the girl, she was sitting the dirt, feet bleeding, her face stained with tears. But, she didn't seem afraid of them, not at first. It was almost like they didn't even faze her until Shane put a gun in her face. Then the fear was almost enigmatic, her breathing became erratic, almost like she was choking on some invisible substance. It was obvious she had more problems than just and infection. Daryl batted the gun away from Shane, trying to steal enough time to out himself between the Shane and her. She wouldn't let Daryl touch her, or react to any of Rick's questions. They were going to have to drag her back to the house, because it looked as though she wouldn't go willingly.

"I told ya, she ain't right in the head, she's sick. Just actin' different that usual." Shane said.

"Shane you can't kill her! She's fine Shane!"

"Shane!"

"Look look at me," Daryl said to her, "can you tell me your name? Will you come with us?"

She was frantic, only fixated on Shane's gun.

"Shane get that out of her face, why would she trust us if you can't get your gun out of her face."

"It's my life, I think I have a right to exercise a little bit of caution!"

"Shane stop!" Rick yelled.

"Then you get her to calm down!" Shane said.

Rick bent down next to her, "I'm Rick, this here's Daryl, and that's Glen. Feel free to ignore Shane." She looked at Rick, almost with a hint of recognition.

"Do you know anyone, were you with anyone?" Daryl asked, hoping to coax a particular answer out of her. She looked back at Daryl, and tried to stand up on her feet, she looked like she was in pain the entire time they helped her up. Once standing she jerked away from them, and leaned against a tree.

Each man casually backed away from her, trying to give her space. So she ran.

"Hey get back here!" Shane yelled.

Rick, Glen, and Daryl all went after her, while Shane stayed behind cocking his pistol. He waited until the shot was a safe distance from the rest of them before firing a shot directly into the air.

The gunshot stopped her in her tracks, almost like it had brought her back to reality. She looked around realizing she was nowhere near the house, nowhere near finding Merle, and she was in danger. He feet were throbbing, she just wanted to keep crying, so she screamed out her frustration the only plausible way she knew she could.

Merle's name surrounded them with shock, she had yelled for someone named Merle at the top of her lungs before she sank to her knees again. Rick looked at Daryl, everyone looked at Daryl.

Even Shane was confused. They all knew the name and wanted to know how she did too.


	7. A Little Reality

They brought her back to Hershel's farm in a fairly catatonic state. But she didn't fight them or run. Rick could see everyone was still damaged from the fight at the barn. Dead still lay at the entrance of the barn. Lori had taken Carl somewhere quiet, Carol was holding her little girl in her arms now, still saddened.

"What was all that noise ya'll were makin'?" T-Dog asked.

"Shane's still trigger happy." Daryl said. "Where's Hershel?"

"Dunno, went off somewhere with his daughter. How's the girl?"

"Alive, hasn't said much." Daryl said. Glen looked at Daryl, then back to T-Dog

"What did she say?" T-Dog asked.

"Oh." Glen said, "She only ran into the woods to look for Daryl's lost brother."

"Merle? Why would she-"

"We don't know, that's why we need Hershel." Glen said.

"She's cut her feet pretty bad, she ain't out, but she ain't talking anymore. There's something wrong in her head."

"Did you ask her about the kid?"

"What do you not get, about 'her ain't sayin' much?'" Daryl asked irritated. All this talk of his brother was bringing back unwanted anger towards T-Dog. Daryl watched as Shane disappeared from sight, Rick left to look for Hershel, and Glen pulled out some alcohol to clean the wounds.

"Might as well get started." Glen said.

Daryl took a roll of cotton and some rubbing alcohol to start cleaning the dirt out of her feet. Both feet were nearly black because of the rich Georgian soil. Anyone dumb enough to run through the woods without shoes was going to have a few good cuts on their feet, and she had just that. One was deep, the rest were treatable with a bandage and cream, Hershel would need to stitch the other.

Daryl watched her, hoping for a sign of sanity to come back to her face. She didn't even wince when they applied the alcohol to her open wounds.

"Sumthin' ain't right in her head." Daryl said. "It's like she ain't even here."

_"Merle…" _she said responding to his voice.

"Hey, hey you in there?" Daryl said, getting no more response.

"How do we know she's talking about your Merle?" T-Dog asked.

"We don't." Glen said, "But how many guys you know named Merle?"

T-Dog was silent, he helped hand medical equipment to Daryl and Glen while Rick was still looking for Hershel. Glen later brought in bottles of water, but they couldn't get her to drink much without causing her to choke on too much of it.

Patricia had stumbled upon them trying to get the cool water down her throat, and she insisted they stop before they killed the poor girl. She came back with a cup of warm water fitted with a squirt of lemon.

"This'll sooth her throat, and be easier to get down." Patricia said. "Once she calms down she'll come back to us."

"Any idea's why she's like this?" Glen asked.

"It's all mental from what I can tell. Unless there's something related to her recent infection." Patricia said, "We just gotta wait this one out."

* * *

><p>Frankie was solemnly quiet the rest of the night, and the occasional sob could be heard from her bedroom late at night. Daryl had spent the night on the couch just outside her room incase she decided to act sane or try to leave again.<p>

He peaked in on her when he first heard the sobs, and she reacted to him.

"You... you okay?" Daryl asked trying to sound concerned.

"Where am I?" she cried, "I don't – don't – where am I?"

"Shh… your in Georgia, we're staying here, a farm house. The guy living here is a doctor, he's been looking after you."

"The – the house – I don't remember –" Frankie sat up, "Where's Sophia?" she asked.

"Sophia?" Daryl questioned, "little blonde girl, 'bout yay' high?"

Frankie nodded.

"She's gone. Got bit." Daryl said.

Frankie began to cry more.

"No no!" Daryl said. He put his palms outward, showing her meant her no harm, "please, don't cry… how'd you know about her?" Daryl asked.

"I found her… in the woods… and I left her – to look – to look –"

"Too look for… what?" Daryl asked.

"Merle left… he never came back. Cause I chose to stay with the girl." Frankie said, "but I couldn't leave here, not alone… then I thought he was in trouble."

"Merle, so you know a Merle?" Daryl asked, trying to pry further.

"Where… am I, what time is it?"

"It's late." Daryl said. "You've been sleeping for a few days."

"Days?" she exclaimed, "but… he would've looked for me." Frankie was breathing heavily now.

"Come on no, not that." Daryl said. Her psychotic manner scared him more than Shane did. She was frantic, upset, and a woman – Daryl didn't know how to deal with either. He sat on the side of the bed, he placed his hand on her back, he could feel now how rapidly her chest was moving and it scared him. "Just breath, calm down."

"Tell me, tell me your name." Daryl said, "Can you do that?" he asked.

"Fran- Fr-Francis." She said through breaths.

"Francis?" Daryl said, "I'm Daryl."

"H-Hi." She said back, "Do I know you?"

"No. You don't but I'm here to help, I promise." Daryl said.

Frankie's breathing became a little softer now, as she nodded her head to her assuring comment.

"Sophia's… really dead?" Frankie asked.

"Yeah, and… you should probably not mention to anyone that you found her out there, especially her mother." Daryl said.

"Sophia – she said she lost her group, I guess you weren't really that far."

"Nah, just too late is all. Don't – don't blame yourself, its not your fault."

"I should've just stayed with her." Frankie said.

"But Merle… you said he never came back?" Daryl asked.

Frankie melted into his arms with more tears streaming down her face now at the mention of Merle.

"I didn't mean to upset –" Daryl tried to say, but he wasn't sure she could even hear him through her frantic sobbing. Being out there alone must've petrified her, not to mention whatever else she'd been through. If Hershel was right, she was missing a small child of her own, and Daryl was still missing his brother.

He let her cry herself back into a light slumber before she slipped out of the room. She was highly emotional, and Daryl could only take so much. She knew _a_ Merle, it wouldn't be hard to figure out if it was _the_ Merle Dixon they were looking for, as not many middle aged men were walking around with a cauterized stump.

* * *

><p>Daryl slept lightly until morning, when he awoke the soft thud of someone falling to the ground. Both him and Patricia found their way into Frankie's room where she was lying on the floor. She had tried to get up, but finally she was aware of the pain in her feet, and couldn't bear to stand. Daryl helped her up, and back onto the bed while Patricia administered the proper medicines.<p>

"Hershel will be back soon, then he can stitch that up before it's starts to heal on it's own." Patricia said, "But in the meanwhile, eat something, you must be famished."

Frankie nodded and took a can of preserves from her hands and ate it almost instantly, she wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist while Patricia went to get another can of food. Daryl had been waiting in the doorway.

"If Hershel's not back within the hour, I'll need you help to fix that foot."

"Can you do that?" Daryl asked.

"Oh I can stitch a wound, but hold down a frantic girl, that's where I'll need you." Patricia said, "you seem fond of her."

Daryl was about to interject before Patricia left but instead he watched the girl fiddle with her sheets and wipe more of her tears. She was scared, like anyone would be waking up in a strange place, and she was in no state to run from them. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be forced to trust someone like that. She woke up and had to believe that he wasn't going to hurt her, or that he was still planning on keeping her safe.

Frankie caught Daryl looking at her, and she immediately tried to rid her face of all tears, knowing her puffy eyes would be impossible to disguise. She didn't feel like she was in danger, but she felt displaced, lost, she was injured, and couldn't remember how. Merle was still missing, Sophia was dead, and she couldn't help but blame herself.

* * *

><p>An hour later Daryl was holding her against his chest once more while Patricia thread a needle through the large cut in her foot. She bit down on a strap of leather while she did it, and was glad that Daryl was there to keep her from squirming, or it would've been worse.<p>

Patricia told her that she had done well. Frankie hoped she had, because she had tried. But soon, she was alone – they had left her behind most likely to discuss her mental state. She felt stupid, stuck in a bed unable to walk, while Merle was surviving on his own. Frankie felt like she owed him for what he did for her.

Daryl came back in, the one always so interested in her old companion. Sure enough, he had more questions about the things Merle had told her.

"I just… need to know –" Daryl said. "See I'm missin' my brother, his name was Merle. He's a real sumbitch, and he ain't much for company, so I understand if it's not the same person. But if you could just tell me if my brothers out there…"

"Merle, he never mentioned a brother." Frankie told him. "How many hands he got?"

"Only one." Daryl said.

"Then they are one in the same, found him in Atlanta, or… he found me I guess." Frankie said as her voice became low. She had ignored that day at the hospital for as long as she could – so for the time being she forced it back into the recess of her memory once again so she wouldn't cry again.

"So my brother he's out there?" Daryl asked.

"Sounds like it." Frankie said.

"I wonder why he never mentioned me." Daryl said.

"Well like you said he's a real sumbitch." Frankie told him.


	8. Replacement

After about a week of searching, Daryl had not been able to recover Merle from the thick Georgian forest. If that girl hadn't known about Merle's hand, he wouldn't have believed it was even him. But it was almost like he had vanished, or turned and ran the other way.

The group had become distant from one another since the incident at the barn. It seemed that some supported Shane, and others didn't. And everyone was still shocked from finding Sophia. After the graves had been dug Shane had opted to move away from the farm, but when no one followed him, he stayed anyway.

Daryl took advantage of the silence to search for Merle, but he was frustrated now that he was coming back empty handed.

He rode back into the clearing around dusk, the sun setting left a soft pink color in the sky while he rode back to the stables to tether the horse he's borrowed. He past the girl, _Francis_she said her name was. She was on the porch steps with Patricia. She was glued to the banister like she was a nail in one of the boards. Whenever they brought her outside she wouldn't last long before she'd have a break down and they'd have to take her back inside.

That added to the turmoil of the group. Francis put people on edge on account of her not being right in the head and all.

Daryl hadn't spoken to her that day since she'd finally told him about Merle. It was important for him to look for his brother before it was too late, but it seemed he had missed his mark, again.

He walked over to Patricia and Francis, sweat glistening in the pink light, greasy hair from the heat, crossbow slung lazily over his shoulder. He nodded to Patricia who was watching over the girl carefully. Daryl looked and didn't think he saw anything recognizable in her eyes. He waited for a while, to see if she reacted, but she didn't. Not until he started to walk away.

"Find him yet?" she called out.

Daryl turned around.

"Nah. Got any tips?" he asked.

She shook her head, she looked sick. "I never should've let him go alone." She said. Patricia was shocked that she was actually talking; they hadn't been able to get her to speak coherently all week. "I owed him too much." Francis said.

"What do you mean?" Daryl asked.

Frankie teared up, and her hands began to shake. Daryl was uncomfortable when others got emotional, he took a step back.

"Sweetie, what happened to your baby?" Patricia asked in a soothing voice.

"She… died." Francis said. "She never took a breath." Daryl felt uncomfortable now. But this psychotic girl was his only tie to Merle. He kneeled onto the bottom step and took her and from the railing to hold.

"That's rough." He said. "But I'm glad my brother helped you."

Frankie began to laugh slightly, "He didn't want to. You should've seen his face." She said.

"I'm sure I've seen that face before." Daryl said. "We were close after all."

There was a long pause between them while Frankie tried to catch a thought.

"He told me all about the rooftop in Atlanta, the Officer, the 'nigger' that dropped the key, but he never mentioned a baby brother."

Daryl felt hurt every time she said that. Daryl had failed his brother, and worst of all Merle knew it.

"Did he say anything that would help me find him?" Daryl asked.

She shook her head and began to breath heavy.

"Get her inside." Patricia said, "Come on!"

The sun had just gone down dropping the temperature a few degrees; he picked up the girl and carried her inside. She still had stitches in her feet so she had to be carried to the porch and dinner. But she didn't last long outside, it seemed large spaces freaked her out – and she somehow clung to Merle like he as some sort of savior. It made the others scoff at her sanity that she could accept Merle as someone she got along with, that she needed in some way.

Daryl set her atop the quilted blanket in the bedroom she had stayed in since she'd gotten here. Patricia got her to swallow a relaxant, Daryl could only watch as she babbled nothing but insanity.

He left the house, frustrated that this girl was some sort of puzzle he wasn't smart enough to get, he cursed Merle for not walking towards the farm, he wanted to blame himself more than anything. For some reason Daryl was able to take on all sorts of guilt, even if it wasn't all his.

He was glad that the sun had gone down, the air was cool on his neck. It seemed to help him think, all day in the hot sun left a lot of room for error.

He could still hear her crying from inside the house.

* * *

><p>Daryl peaked inside her room the next morning to see that Francis was fast asleep. He knew he wanted to talk to her to get anything he could about Merle, But he felt like there was something so wrong about waking her up just to interrogate her. He took a seat outside her room; he could see Shane through the screen door.<p>

He had been somewhat on his own since his psychotic episode, shooting at someone completely fine was what really crossed the line for Daryl. He understood the walkers in the barn; it wasn't exactly safe to sleep next to them, but sick girl – that was another story.

Daryl was half worried that Shane might try to do something stupid again, no one really knew what went on in his head.

After about a half hour Daryl heard her stir. She had tried to stand up, but fallen down once the pain shot up from her feet. Daryl opened the door and immediately helped her up. She clung to him like she was scared.

He set her down on the bed.

"You okay?" he asked.

Her head sort of nodded and twitched at the same time, she looked sad, and tired.

"Look," he said, "I know it ain't easy for you n' all. But I wanna find my brother."

"I want you to find him too." She said, "but what you don't know,"

"What?" he asked.

"He's changed, I can tell, the brother you talk about, he's not the same."

"You mean, a different Merle?" Daryl asked.

"No. Same Merle, No right hand Merle, our Merle, something's different." She said. "Would you mind sitting with me for a while?" she asked.

"No but I should get out, go look for him."

"Just… sit." She said. "So I can get some real sleep." She said. "I didn't fall asleep till the sun came up, but I think, if you stay for a while, I might be able to rest."

"Why is that?" Daryl asked.

"Because you remind me of him." She said covering herself back up. She laid her head on her pillow, and once again Daryl felt very awkward. She was the strangest girl he'd ever talked to, but for some reason he helped her. And is he wanted her to help him, it was the least he could do. He took the soft arm chair in the corner and sat down, and for a while he just watched her sleep.

* * *

><p>Sorry I've been gone so long, literally biggest work week of my life, thanks for being patient, I wish this was longer for you guys, cool stuff for next chapter!<p> 


	9. Relocation

Frankie awoke startled, by some means of the Georgia heat she could no longer stand the confines of a feather blanket, and struggled to make her way around the room. The moonlight left an eerie glow over the farm that she had stumbled upon. She wondered how she got here, who had found her.

She vaguely remembered fleeing the safety of that home, leaving behind that small girl, going after a man she had only had the pleasure of knowing for a few weeks. But like a strong whirlwind she had gone from hiding in a Texaco gas station, to a functioning farm all in a few months. Her stomach had gotten smaller of course, making it able for her to see her feet again. Feet that now held terrible scars from jagged the rocks and branches.

She could still feel sore muscles healing from the ordeal she'd been through. And she had luckily recovered from her fever leaving her head clearer, but still unsettled. Frankie was only twenty-one years old. In and out of doctors offices, schools, she had skipped college, meant to live and be free for as long as she could, and then she became pregnant. Everything stopped; she cleaned up, and found a family to adopt her baby.

Then the disease, the painstaking, apocalyptic, forever changing disease.

Not one person Frankie knew survived. Family, friends… all were dead by the time she left her home speeding as fast as the 1992 Pontiac would take her. And after being alone for so long, Merle had been her only living contact since losing her family, and she latched onto him hoping to keep a friendly face for as long as she could, and in another blink of an eye he was gone.

Her feet hurt as soon as she finished making a circle around her room. She was taking small steps, easing her way onto one foot and off the other. She couldn't stay here, she was feeling suffocated.

She had avoided most of the group, remembering stories from Merle about the men that had left him on that roof to die – she didn't like them, any of them, especially the man that didn't like her.

Almost like a ghost she crept through Hershel's house, finding that every step she took hurt. But she felt compelled to breathe fresh air, even if the open space bothered her.

* * *

><p>Daryl had become immensely frustrated over the last few days, having no luck in finding Sophia, or Merle had really gotten him to the point of self-loathing.<p>

He couldn't watch these people around him to try to rebuild their lives when he didn't have any building materials. And he'd given up on any hope he had for finding his brother, he couldn't tell if this girl was bat-shit crazy or too far-gone to ever come back. Day after day they'd end up giving her a sedative to keep her from screaming or fighting. It seemed Daryl was able to talk her down to a calm state, but between ramblings and mumbling – nothing she said was useful.

Daryl stood up; he squinted his eyes and raised his crossbow. He was on watch.

The movement in front of the house had caught his eye, the girl, the crazy girl; she was stumbling out of the house. He rolled his eyes and went back to watching the plateau of grass.

After some time he could feel her eyes boring into the back of his head and it bothered him. Her abnormal thought process not only made him mad, but also frightened him. He didn't know exactly why she was the way she was or if she was even sane.

He climbed down the RV ladder, finding his feet on solid ground again once he was at the bottom. He strode over there, still angry.

"Girl." He said, walking up to her. "Ain't you supposed to be inside?" he asked.

She just looked at him, almost surprised.

"I ain't goin' to watch over ya if you're gonna just sit here." He said.

She just looked at him again.

"Ain't yer head work right?" he asked.

She smiled and shook her head no.

* * *

><p>Merle had gone back a few weeks. Back towards Atlanta, half of him was glad he'd left the girl behind, and the other half felt slightly lonely. Her lack of personality was more than unsettling to him, having been with her through some fairly traumatic times, Merle didn't like the fact that he knew nothing about her. He had never asked for her company, yet she seemed to follow him, deathly afraid of being alone again.<p>

He felt better again, now that he was back to being alone he only had to watch out for himself – he didn't care whether she or that girl were okay, for all he cared they could starve together. They weren't his responsibility.

Merle liked things that way.

The only thing he did miss was his kid brother. Never would he have said that aloud, but he did tend to think of Daryl through out the day, wondering about him. Merle had little to care for in this world, blood was the only thing and now it was gone.

Merle had made his way back to the old campsite he had shared with his brother and the others outside of Atlanta. It was all but abandoned long ago, but Merle would come here in-between visits to town and wonder if they were coming back.

Merle knew one thing was for certain; people come and go in this world. Whether they're living or dead you always keep moving. No place safe, just always somewhere safer.

That day he gathered some more supplied from Atlanta, food, provisions, and decided to head north.

* * *

><p>AN: I know this is very short, and it's been a while. I'm helping a family member finish a book so we can make it to the publishers on time, so I wanted to post what little I had so that you weren't starving until I'm finished working. So I hope that the time passes quickly so I can get back to writing these stories that I find so fun. Thanks.


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